


Now that a room is a palace with space for more than one heart

by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)



Series: Steve/Tony Ficlets [9]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: M/M, POV Third Person Omniscient
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadisticsparkle/pseuds/Sadisticsparkle
Summary: Tony, Steve and their rooms.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Steve/Tony Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764772
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Team Fluff





	Now that a room is a palace with space for more than one heart

**Author's Note:**

> SteveTony Games prompt: Growing Old Together

Tony’s childhood bedroom was littered with expensive, handmade toys he never played with and the carcasses of projects he had abandoned. A half-finished robot gathering dust in a corner, a toy car gutted under the bed. Victims of Howard’s careless comments, damned with just one glance and the slight quirk of an eyebrow. Damned like Capt’n Teddy, Tony’s favorite teddy bear which was now banished to the darkest drawer.

His bed was a vast wasteland. He’d curl up on himself, bring his knees to his chest and shut his eyes. Maybe there wouldn’t be nightmares that night. Maybe he wouldn’t be cold. Maybe the shadows wouldn’t play tricks on his minds and maybe his mom would come in and sing him a lullaby like she used to, with her sweet, melodious voice and her kisses on his hair and her silk robe that Tony would grab onto when he was scared. But it was no use — she wouldn’t come, not now nor ever. Her slippers wouldn’t slide on the plush carpet and she wouldn’t knock her knee against his night table. She wouldn’t swear and then glance at him, worried he had heard. He always played dumb when that happened.

She wouldn’t come, she had promised Howard that if he had nightmares, she’d leave him alone. _Stark men are made of iron_ he had growled and all Tony had done was bite back his bile and nod.

*

Steve’s childhood bedroom was the kitchen. He’d fall asleep on a tough mattress and in his mom’s tight embrace. And every day, he’d wake up alone. She had to go to work early and trusted him to take care of himself. It was the least he could do because his mom walking in the snow before the sun was up was his fault. Her tired smile, the dark circles under her eyes, her shivers at night… His fault. He was weak. Small. And he couldn’t repay her sacrifice, at least not quick enough to save her.

So his first room had been in the Avengers Mansion. It was nothing like he was used to: wide, spacious, sunny, and tastefully decorated. But not to his taste — it was as homey as the hotel room of a traveling salesman. His bed, with a solid blue bedspread, was always made. He had two blocky, geometric black nightstands that he had gotten at IKEA. There was an old fashioned lamp — his one indulgence — and always a book or two on one of the nightstands. The other one was empty as if it was waiting for somebody else to move in.

The hardwood floor was covered with one rug with a bold geometric pattern in red and white. Tony’s doing, probably, ensuring everything was on brand. A small library held his favorite books and then there was nothing else but the curtains. No pictures, no art, nothing that could tie him down to the place. He didn’t want to make it feel like home because eventually all his homes vanished.

*

Their room together, however, was littered with the detritus of life. 

There photographs on every surface available ( _so old-fashioned,_ Tony would say and Steve would just laugh). Team pictures, the corny ones with everybody posing like a superhero and the candid ones with Carol doubled over with laughter and Thor winking at the camera and Clint rolling his eyes at something just out of frame. One big picture of their wedding: Steve leaning in for a kiss, Tony’s faceplate open, Jan waving the bouquet like a pom-pom. Steve’s drawings covered the walls: snapshots of moments lost to time. The evolution of Tony’s wrinkles. A sunset somewhere wild. Kree spaceships and WWII scenes. Sarah Rogers smiling while she cooked.

The sun sifted through the curtains every morning. Tony’s hair grayed and Steve’s back sometimes hurt. The pictures multiplied and the red-and-white rug frayed at the corners. Steve changed the drawings on the walls sometimes, Tony’s to-read pile on the nightstand kept growing. Their lives tangled with each other, until none of them knew where their side of the closet ended and they began staying in bed on weekends.

And just like their room only became their home through the small gestures of everyday life, their love became routine and not a tragedy.


End file.
